


Fallen Out of Favour, And Fallen From Grace

by I_have_a_Mycroft_of_my_very_own



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Angels and Demons AU, Barduil if you squint?, fallen angels AU, if discussion of people vehemently disagreeing with God offends you, walk away
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-07-14 09:51:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7166366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_have_a_Mycroft_of_my_very_own/pseuds/I_have_a_Mycroft_of_my_very_own
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“But this is a demon town. Yes, I’m aware.” He says, cutting the demon off. “I’m merely out for an evening stroll.” He admits, pointing up to the moon above them. “Nothing more.”</p><p>“Why not pick somewhere holy for that?”</p><p>“Holy is overrated.” Bard answers, before frowning, his frown deepening when Thranduil smirks at him.</p><p>“And here I was under the impression the Princes couldn’t sin.”</p><p>“Don’t. It was a slip of the tongue.”</p><p>“Ah. But most sins are.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fallen Out of Favour, And Fallen From Grace

**Author's Note:**

> I actually wrote this a long time ago. Well, I wrote most of it along time ago... and then I forgot about it. I'm not sure if I'm going to continue it, but I might. Eventually. Some day. Maybe. 
> 
> Anyway:  
> Thranduil = Anabiel. Angel Invoked to Cure Stupidity. Is not actually a fallen angel in lore, but is in this story.  
> Feren = Kokabel. The Angel of the Stars. A Watcher or Grigori. Taught astrology to humans and was cast down for it.  
> Galion = Gadreel. In some lore, Gadreel is said to have taught humans the art of weapons of war, in others, he's said to have taught humans about cosmetics. And in others, he's said to have been the serpent that tempted Eve. In this story, he was not the serpent who tempted Eve. He is a Watcher/Grigori like Kokabel.  
> Bard = Bardiel/Baradiel. One of the seven, great, beautiful, and honoured Princes of Heaven. Said to be a Guiding Angel, he's the Angel of Hail. He's not a fallen angel in lore.

_The desert is calling._  
_The emptiness of space._  
_The hunger of a lion_  
_Is written on your face._  
_A maniac's new love song._  
_Destruction is his game._  
_I need a new direction,_  
_Cause I have lost my way._  
~End of All Days, 30 Seconds to Mars

* * *

To say Thranduil has forgotten his time as an angel would be a lie, and while he’s not unversed in the art of deception, he prefers the truth when lying is unnecessary. He remembers everything, every little detail from the time of his creation to the time of his fall. He remembers how his wings had snapped, burned, withered, and, for a few terrifying moments, felt like they were going to tear completely from his body. He remembers impacting the ground with a harsh thud that left him reeling for days. He remembers his body broken upon the ground. He remembers the many weeks it took to heal, and how, in all that time, he simply lay there, screaming his pain, listening to the sounds of his brothers and sisters screaming their own agony.

He remembers being told to pick a side, and not needing to because God chose for him.

Yes. Thranduil remembers his time as an angel. Though he has fond memories from that time, they do not outweigh the bad.

To this day, hidden behind his glamour, the skin on the entirety of his left side is all burned away, exposing everything within. Were he to leave his host, and he no longer is certain he can, the host would die instantaneously. At first, it was only remnants of his own angelic powers that kept them living, but later, when Lucifer had called, and he had answered, his new demonic powers had taken over. Somewhere along the way, his consciousness and his host’s had combined. Become one, taking on the name of his host, and leaving that of his angelic self behind.

There is no Anabiel now, there is only Thranduil.

* * *

Bard doesn’t remember the Fall, more accurately, he doesn’t remember the Falls, plural. Because there were many, have been many, _are still_ many, more-so now that their Father has become absent. Bard’s not sure why he alone of his brethren cannot recall the Fall. He remembers standing before the Throne of God against Lucifer and his angels, and then… _nothing_. Absence. It frustrates him, but he is certain one day he will remember, has to remember. He’s an angel of guidance, he’s not allowed to forget things.

The past guides the future, and he has forgotten it.

* * *

“Well, it’s not _my_ fault there’s a random angel walking through our territory, is it?”

“Yes, Feren, it is. That’s exactly your job.” Thranduil sighs and rolls his eyes at the demon before him. Once upon a time, Feren had been the Angel Kokabel but, after teaching the humans the constellations, had been cast from heaven. Feren had been one of the first to flock to Thranduil’s side after his own fall.

“No, it isn’t.”

“Feren. It is. You’re a Watcher. You’re meant to be watching.” Thranduil retorts, more patient with Feren than he is with many of his other followers.

“Fine. But it’s not my problem _now._ ” Feren grumbles, vanishing from sight.

“Well, you’re not wrong.” Thranduil says to the empty room, before heaving a sigh and going to see the angel for himself.

* * *

“You should not be here, angel.” A voice calls behind Bard, who frowns and spins on his heel. Eyes landing on the man standing before him, his bearing is regal, his clothing expensive, and his wings jet black. Bard frowns.

“Why not, demon?” he questions, noting the way the demon cocks its head to the side, considering him.

“Baradiel, right?” the demon asks, Bard nods slowly. “Yes, I remember you.” The demon grins, fanged teeth glinting in the pale moonlight. “You shouldn’t be here, prince.”

“You’ve had the honour of my name, will I have the honour of yours?”

“Thranduil.”

“Lie.” Baradiel replies smoothly, tone bored. “Your angel name.”

“Very well.” The demon says, rolling his starlight eyes. “Once upon a time, it was Anabiel.”

“Ah. Stupidity.” Bard says, nodding his head and looking to the wings once more, knowing they used to be golden once.

“Yes. Does it make sense why I’m confronting you now, angel?” Thranduil asks with a little sigh.

“Not yet.”

“You shouldn’t be here. Perhaps you’ve been lax in paying attention to the Map. But-“ It is Bard’s turn to sigh, and he rolls his eyes.

“But this is a demon town. Yes, I’m aware.” He says, cutting the demon off. “I’m merely out for an evening stroll.” He admits, pointing up to the moon above them. “Nothing more.”

“Why not pick somewhere holy for that?”

“Holy is overrated.” Bard answers, before frowning, his frown deepening when Thranduil smirks at him.

“And here I was under the impression the Princes couldn’t sin.”

“Don’t. It was a slip of the tongue.”

“Ah. But most sins are.” Thranduil says, shrugging. “You may continue your stroll. But I’ll be watching. And I want you gone by morning.”

“Very well.”

“Good.” Thranduil tells him, before vanishing. Bard smiles softly and turns on his heel, to continue his walk. He’s barely taken five steps when he hears a soft muttering behind him.

“Why do I have to watch the stupid angel? It’s not _my_ fault he chose to stay in the stupid city.”

“Angel hearing!” Bard calls, smirking at the curse he hears behind him.

“Satan dammit!”

“You’re not good at this stealthy thing, are you?” Bard asks, refraining from turning around as he continues walking.

“Stealth is overrated.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.”

“What’s your name?” Bard questions, curious.

“Galion.” Bard rolls his eyes, why could the Fallen not simply keep their own names?

“Angel name.” He clarifies, the presence behind him hesitates, and just when Bard thinks it will not answer him, it speaks.

“Gadreel.” Bard’s eyes widen at that, and there is a laugh from behind him at his silence. “You weren’t expecting that, were you?”

“Not really, no.”

“Did you expect me not to pick a side, or is it my mere presence at all that confuses you?” 

“Both?” Bard replies, frowning.

“I didn’t choose a side. It was chosen for me. I was middle ground. I was not against our Father, I merely fell in love with the humans, taught them how to defend themselves. I did not intend for them to use it for ill.”

“Still-“

“Still nothing.” Galion states, cutting him off. “I did not choose to go against our Father until he threw me down. I didn’t pick this.”

“That’s not true.”

“Right. The demon can’t ever speak the truth.” Galion scoffs, his voice sounding closer now than it did a few seconds ago. “Sometimes I think the real dishonest people live in heaven.”

“That’s not-“

“Please.” Galion scoffs. “Heaven is rife with the dishonest. Pride is a deadly sin, you know? Yet, the highest echelons of heaven are shrouded with it. Wrath is a deadly sin, too. Yet Father’s is divine.”

“He-“

“Uh, uh, uh!” Galion cuts in, and Bard can hear the smirk in his voice. “Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbour, Bardiel.” Bard scowls.

“Well, now you’re just using that to-“

“There are six things that the Lord strongly dislikes, seven that are an abomination to him: haughty eyes, a lying tongue, and hands that shed innocent blood, a heart that devises wicked plans, feet that make haste to run to evil, a false witness who breathes out lies, and one who sows discord among brothers. Proverbs 6:16-19.” Galion recites to him, and Bard growls.

“I will not be quoted scripture by a-‘

“Pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall. Proverbs 16:18.”

“I-“ Bard’s hands clench as his side, and his wings uncurl, there’s a disapproving tutting noise behind him.

“Against wrath his help shall be, if he has grace in heart to see, how angels, should his anger rise, flee fast from him and go and demons run to him in haste; hell’s fury burns his heart and makes him so hot and high that none may stand him nigh.”

“That’s not even-“

“I can go on all night, Baradiel. Would you like that?”

“No.” Bard growls, looking down at the ground.

“Then cease your arguing. Do you not know that it is pointless to argue with demons? They always win in the end.”

“ _That_ is definitely a lie.”

“Of course, because angels just corrupt themselves without any nudging what-so-ever.” Galion replies, laughing. “You’re so naïve it physically pains me.”

“Is that what you’re trying to do right now? Lead me astray.”

“Oh, come, come, little Prince.” Galion purrs, right into Bard’s ear. “You’re incapable of sin, do you not recall?”

“I thought we had already established that was an exaggeration.”

“Perhaps we had. I could not be certain, denial is the name of the game, and angels are its victors.”

“Hmm.”                                                                                                               

* * *

The rest of the night is spent in silence. And come sunrise, Bard is gone, flying away on the morning breeze to places unknown, much to the demons happiness.

“Feren?”

“Anabiel.” Feren replies, smirking, Thranduil rolls his eyes.

“Insubordination is cute, Feren, but don’t make a habit of it, dear.” Thranduil scolds, before moving back on track. “If the angel returns, I wish to be notified immediately.”

“Of course.” Feren replies, nodding and flying away.

* * *

“He’s back.” Feren informs him later that night, when Thranduil is lying on the roof of his apartment complex, watching the stars.

“Of course he is.” Thranduil replies, sighing. “He’s stupid. And stupid people, inevitably, are drawn towards me, so that I may cure them of their affliction.” He says before vanishing to the street.

* * *

“Why are you back?” Bard doesn’t turn at the voice, merely continues to wander through the quiet streets.

“Why not?” he asks, feeling the air shift as a form appears beside him, keeping pace.

“You’re a fool.”

“Well then, it’s a good thing your job is to cure stupidity, isn’t it?”

“Hmm. I think you’re a lost cause, I’m afraid.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Well, for starters, humans don’t normally walk down the _middle_ of a street, even at night.”

“What?” Bard asks, glancing around and noting that, yes, he is in the middle of the road. “Oh.” He says, moving to the footpath. Thranduil snorts and rolls his eyes.

“Secondly, any humans out this late are doing Satan’s work, so you probably needn’t pretend to be one of them.”

“Does hell ever sleep?”

“Of course not. No rest for the wicked, Bardiel.”

“Hmm.”

“Why are you here?” Thranduil asks, when they’ve walked in an almost comfortable silence for a few blocks.

“I’m looking for something.”

“What?”

“Answers?” Bard shrugs, sighing heavily.

“To what?”

“I don’t know.” Thranduil scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“I continue to understand why you were drawn to me. Pick somewhere to start searching, and go. If you do not know where to start, you will never know when you’ve reached the end.”

“I don’t even know what I’m looking for. There’s just something missing.” A very small smile forms on Thranduil’s face at the words.

“Truly, Princes are not above sin. You’re _questioning_ , Bardiel. And questions lead to falls. And falls lead _here_.”

“ _Never_.”

“Mmm, you’ll see. Sun’s coming up.” He hasn’t finished speaking before Bard is gone. Thranduil turns on his heel and starts heading back towards his apartment. _“I’m tired of the waiting, for the end of all days. The prophets are preaching; the gods are needing praise…”_ he sings quietly under his breath. “ _All we need is faith.”_ He scoffs. “Hmph, right. Faith will save us all, right?” he snaps his fingers, “Pathetic.” Is the whisper on the wind as he vanishes from the street.

* * *

Bard keeps coming back. Not every night, but close enough to it. He comes back and he walks through the streets, Thranduil at his side and they talk. Sometimes about work. Sometimes about the Falls. Sometimes about nothing at all.

“You’re falling, Bard.” Thranduil keeps telling him, his parting words each time Bard goes away.

“I’m not.” Bard replies, every time, but even he doesn’t believe it anymore. “I’m not.”

“Denial isn’t just a river in Egypt.”

“Cute.”

* * *

A year has gone by since Bardiel first appeared in the demon town, and Bard hasn’t been keeping track of the time, Thranduil has been.

“I was wrong.” Thranduil admits, as they lie on the shore of a lake almost dead centre in the middle of the town. “You’re not falling.”

“I told you I wasn’t.”

“No, you’re sauntering vaguely downwards. Much akin to Crowley.” Bardiel snorts at Thranduil’s comment.

“Is the serpent here, too?”

“Crowley? Of course not, don’t be ridiculous. Crowley’s with his angel.” Bard turns to look sceptically at Thranduil.

“His angel?”

“We weren’t created without emotions or impulses, Bard. Surely you’ve figured _that_ much out by now, at least.” Thranduil tells him, rolling his starlight eyes.

“Interesting. I thought demons incapable of love.”

“Not incapable. Inconvenienced.”

“Oh?”

“They don’t call it ‘ _falling_ in love’ for nothing, Bard.” Thranduil replies, shaking his head. “You’re utterly clueless sometimes, you know that?”

“So you keep telling me.”

“I only speak the truth.”

“Now, that has to be a lie.”

“Actually, you’ll find demons are often the most honest beings you’ll ever encounter in your life. Why feed people lies that you have to keep track of and keep growing, when you can tell someone a single truth and have them question everything?” Thranduil asks, smiling softly. “We don’t coerce the humans anywhere. They ask us for truth, and we give it to them. They find their own way to hell, Bard.”

“That can’t possibly be true. Demons are vicious liars.”

“No. You’ll understand one day.” Thranduil tells him, turning away. “Have you remembered anything else, yet?”

“No.”

“It’ll come back to you, in time.”

“What if I forgot it for a reason?”

“Then you’re remembering for a reason, too. The rules can’t apply only some of the time, Bard. They apply all the time, or they were never rules to begin with.”

* * *

“I don’t want to fall.” Bard admits one night as the pair watch humans hurry from household to household in the pursuit of sugary treats.

“None of us wanted to fall.” Thranduil replies with a little sigh. “It’s not something we can control.”

“Did it hurt?” Bard asks, voice so quiet Thranduil nearly misses it. He considers lying, but knows there is no need for it.

“Like nothing else.” He answers, fingers reaching up to brush against his glamoured cheek. “You don’t just fall, Bard. You break. Your wings snap and burn and break. Your host burns and breaks and your angelic self feels like it is trying to tear itself from your chest. Hitting the ground is almost a relief when it finally happens. Afterwards, you’re too broken to move for days, weeks. Time seems to lose all meaning. Nothing hurts like falling.”

“I was afraid you were going to say that.”

“I only speak the truth.”

“Yes, so you’ve told me many times. I’m starting to believe it.”

“You’re falling.”

“I know.”

* * *

Bard falls on a cold winter’s night. He’s a shooting star in the night sky, falling to Earth. Children look upon him in wonder, and they wish upon him. No one sees him hit the ground, and neither does he.

* * *

 

When he pulls himself from the Earth, weeks have past, and he finds Thranduil sat upon the sand, watching him.

"You couldn't have helped?"

"You should not have fallen if you couldn't handle the consequences."

"Hmph, of course."

"Come along, Bard. I have a world of sin to show you."

"Show me what you got."

* * *

 

 _All we need is faith._  
All we need is faith.  
Faith is all we need

_The maniac messiah,_  
_Destruction is his game._  
_A beautiful liar,_  
_Love for him is pain._  
_The temples are now burning,_  
_Our faith caught up in flames._  
_I need a new direction,_  
_Cause I have lost my way.  
~End of All Days, 30 Seconds to Mars._

 


End file.
